Their feet left behind a trailing sound of boots on metal every where that they ran. Despite the searing stitch in Steda's leg, and the sweat that poured down from Markus' face, they did not stop. Not even for a second. The risk was to great, the risk that should they be caught and face death, their small passion that had only just began to rise should be so quickly destroyed. At one point Steda turned a corner and collided straight into some politician. Yanking the man back to his feet, Steda muttered a quick apology and then set off yet again at a dead run. Finally, after roughly half an hour of running through the ship they came across deck four. The cargo bay in which they choose to hide seemed primarily to be for the storage of passengers speeders and other ground vehicles. Running through the aisles that separated each vehicle, Steda almost sent Markus flying as he crashed into the back of him.

"What the..." Steda clambered back up to his feet and brushed himself off. Turning around he saw Markus staring at an Imperial Lambda Class shuttle.

"It belongs to Desaria," explained Markus, "Quickly we can hide in there."

Following Markus up the shuttle's ramp, Steda couldn't help but realize that he and Markus were finally alone for the first time. Pulling Markus close to him, he looked into the eyes of the man who had caused him to act so irrationally. The man who had caused such a spark of feelings in his heart that a full flame was already erupting there. In his minds eye, he saw everything that had been that night, everything that was happening and everything that could be.

"Markus, this night I have brought numerous troubles to your live. If you wish to leave now, to return to your lover and to forget about me then I will understand completely. "

"Steda, if I did not want to be here with you then I never would have met up with you in the first place. I choose to do this and I shall see it through to the end, whether that end be my own or some other dark fate, or whether that end be happiness. I will not run and hide from trouble, Desaria taught me that if nothing else."

In a moment of pure lust, Markus pulled Steda to him. Their lips met in a spark of passion, their bodies closer than ever. Releasing Steda from his grip, Markus hit a control switch behind him and then all but dragged Steda into a passenger room of the shuttle, their lips locked into place.

" You two, cover the exits on the bow-side; you two, the stern. You two, with me!" Malek's voice was not a low growl but rather a gruff barking of orders, the kind of rough command he had grown into when a Sergeant Major. The ship's security officers around him looked to their corporal for silent assent but he was already gesturing with his arms, doubling the Imperial officer's command. In matters of the security of the Empire, a soldier outranked a private policeman, and the corporal knew it. If his men did not, they obeyed all the same.


" The locking mechanism is jammed!" yelled a low-ranking officer, his rifle slung around his shoulder as he furiously pushed keys on the control panel. The blast doors refused to part and admit them. Malek fumed, his face making every effort - and failing - to match the colour of the shirt on his powerful chest.


Corporal Hramis looked at the Imperial officer and nodded negatively. " If this door has been fused, command protocols have to be re-written. That can only be done from the security station on the bridge."


Malek slammed his fist into a polished durasteel bulkhead, knocking dirt from above down onto him. " There is no time. Blow it. NOW!"





" Captain on the bridge!"


Several crewmen came to attention as the aged officer entered from a recessed corridor. " Master of the Watch, report?"


The crewmen awake and on duty, few in number, resumed their duties. For such a large ship, only a dozen souls were in the expansive command cabin, sitting at the helm station, a plot table, navigation, and a few other essentials. With the exception of some bright terminals, there was no primary lighting on third watch, contributing to the dead feeling of the place. The young Chief Petty Officer stepped next to the Captain and looked out at the stars. It was a beautiful scene, the Crown Imperial having dropped from hyperspace to above Meridia V, a resort world of first rate. With the planet on the right and a thin gas cloud on the left, the view could not have been better.


" Scanners clear, Captain. All decks at station keeping. We'll be ready for descent in four hours. Planetary control has cleared us for approach Twelve."


" Excellent. Soon my work here will be done. My last voyage as Captain, you know. Are you ready to serve under Captain Kulleger?"


The Chief Petty Officer sighed but caught himself. " Well, sir..."


At an empty station, a blip crept onto the scopes, at first only flashing until it neared and was announced by a quiet chirp. An arched eyebrow greeted the never-before used terminal. First Class Hand Vorouth moved closer in his wheeled chair, studying the display intently until he was quite sure he had no idea what it was. " Sir?"


The Master of the Watch approached, leaving the Captain to his view. He looked down at the console and went white. He turned left and looked through the glass at whatever moved. He saw nothing.


" Something wrong, Chief?" the Captain asked, noticing the puzzled look on his crewman's face. The Chief just peered out, until he saw it. Then he saw two, then three, then five shapes moving out of the ion cloud at breakneck speed.


They were on the ship faster that any knew, the bridge officers only able to stare. They were corvettes, possibly Mauarder-class, that swept from the sensor void and made a pass just off the nose of the liner. The Captain only mouthed a command that went unheard as he looked on in horror. The corvettes, more gracefully then he ever imagined possible, turned on a time and looped around the port side at a slight angle to the ship's keel. He watched the tips of their lasers glow, and gasped.


" Alarm!"


Before the klaxons could ever sound, an explsoion rocked the Crown Imperial.

Malek stepped through the threshold and into the cargo bay. He scanned left then right, his eyes finally settling on the Admiral's personal shuttle. The shuttle itself was in tact, but the ramp was down. His brow furrowed, the large man left the security personnel in his wake and stormed into the interior. Blackness greeted him and his drawn pistrol, his muscular figure the only one in the cabin. He pushed around a rotating chair with his paw-like hand and saw a red satin shirt crumbled in the seat. Marcus had been here.


Then the ship rocked violently. The Lieutenant felt his ears sting as alarms of all kinds battled for dominance. He rushed out of the shuttle and past the security officers. The Admiral must know.





I have never faltered before. Why now? How is it I've stared death in the face on countless fields and now, in the face of love, I feel bested?


Rear Admiral Desaria felt his leather gloved hand slam into the railing, not even realizing he had balled his fists. Try as he might, he could not focus on the brilliant gas cloud beyond the nearby viewports. Their beauty was lost on him, the only image in his mind the flawless face of his lover. He sighed. Am I losing him?


Before an answer presented itself, the decking of the Crown Imperial shuddered under his jackboots. Startled, Desaria let go of the railing and stepped back. Klaxons registered through the corridor, klaxons he recognized all too readily. They hadn't something, no - those were battle alarms.


" Admiral!"


Desaria heard the familiar voice behind him, but shook his head. It couldn't be, after all. Lieutenant Malek, his faithful bodyguard was on his flagship en route to the liner's final destination. Trying to prove to his brain that his ears were deceiving him, the Admiral, still in his dress uniform, came full about and stared directly at the barrel-chest of a man who did not wear civilian clothes well at all.


" What are you doing here, Lieutenant?"


" Your Excellency, I am sorry to have disobeyed you. But there is a problem-"


" Admiral!"


That voice the Imperial flag officer could not recognize. He turned around again, glancing down the hall as it quickly filled with frightened passangers. A pair of junior officers from the ship's company came running up and would surely have collided with Desaria had the decking not been covered by a thick red carpet. The men were no longer the fresh-faced ensigns he had seen upon boarding, but looked years older. They were, after all, civilians.


" Admiral Desaria, the Captain has asked you to take command."


Desaria barked a quick laugh, amused at the offer. He heard the battle alarms, felt the shudder, but saw no hostile craft in the quick glance he had taken out the viewport. The older of the two officers saw the look of apparent disbelief and spoke quickly. " Sir, the Captain is dead. He asked for you before he died. A group of corvettes came out of the gas cloud and knocked out our hyperdrive with a quick volley of missiles. The Captain happened to be in engineering when they hit. He asked you to take command. Sir."


All humor left the Admiral's face. Duty called, and he would answer. He gestured for the two crewmen to lead and off they went towards a nearby lift. Malek fell in behind, saying nothing. His task was to protect, not interfere. But when the group turned a corner, the two crewmen came face to face with a thin, black haired man standing in the company of a New Republic Fighter Officer in some slovely civilian dress clothes.


In the ears of the Admiral, the alarms fell silent, drowned out by the thunder of his own heart beat. The beat slowed perceptibly. Before them - before him - stood Marcus, looking radiant as ever but with apologetic eyes the Baron did not understand at first. Then he let his gaze fall down, down to where the New Republic officer - Commander Steda if he remembered the dinner introductions correctly - had hold of his lover's hand. It all made sense. Clear, horrifying sense. All sound was then gone from the Admiral's ears; he could not hear his bodyguard recount what he had seen, what he had seen them doing.


Desaria stood for a moment, paralyzed. From his right side came his gloved hand, moving up his torso until it stopped atop his red and blue studded rank plaque, atop where his heart barely beat. He clenched the fingers together tight and dropped the hand back to his side, summoning every bit of partial discipline to fight the flood of tears that wanted to come. His chizeled jaw set firm, Desaria lost the fight. He turned towards a nearby lift and growled at the nearest Ensign. " Which way to the bridge?"